


light in the hallway

by jamaisatisfait



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Background Tojo Kirumi, Concussions, Don't Worry About It, Entirely Self-Indulgent, I am so tired, M/M, Mild Angst, Mild Hurt/Comfort, TW: Mentions of parental abuse, TW: Mentions of skipping meals, also all the drv3 chars but they're not relevant enough to the story to warrant a tag, exploits the hell out of certain concussion symptoms, finished and immediately posted, first time writing for this ship/fandom so they might be a bit ooc oops, i got carried away, i have not TECHNICALLY seen all of the third chapter's investigation or trial, it's 2:25 in the morning, kokichi cries like twice, mainly shuichi's perspective but the last section is kokichi's, mild there's-only-one-bed, not beta read we die like men, oh wait i guess, they talk about her a bit, written by someone who's never been concussed don't worry about it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:09:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27021799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamaisatisfait/pseuds/jamaisatisfait
Summary: "It’s a lie!"The shock from seeing Kokichi's wounded form lying prone on the hardwood lingers for a moment, even as he lifts his bloodied head and beams at them with a bright (albeit strained) smile. When Shuichi realizes that he's not staring at the third corpse to appear in the span of an hour, relief washes over him, and anger is quick to follow it as Kokichi shakily picks himself up off the floor. "Nee-heehee! Did I surprise you? Were you gonna scream and cry in terror?"---After falling through the floorboard, Kokichi sustains a concussion. Shuichi takes care of him.
Relationships: Oma Kokichi/Saihara Shuichi
Comments: 15
Kudos: 315
Collections: Quality Fics





	light in the hallway

**Author's Note:**

> dear kodaka: fuck you. strongly worded letter to follow

"It’s a lie!"

The shock from seeing Kokichi's wounded form lying prone on the hardwood lingers for a moment, even as he lifts his bloodied head and beams at them with a bright (albeit strained) smile. When Shuichi realizes that he's not staring at the third corpse to appear in the span of an hour, relief washes over him, and anger is quick to follow it as Kokichi shakily picks himself up off the floor. "Nee-heehee! Did I surprise you? Were you gonna scream and cry in terror?" he says, and Shuichi notes the way he slurs his words just a bit.

"What are you doing?" Shuichi asks, trying to steady his voice as though Kokichi hadn't just scared the daylights out of him. The short boy looks up at him as if he’s started speaking a different language, confused and clearly not processing what’s been asked, and Shuichi’s starting to wonder how much of this is real.

“Oh,” Kokichi says abruptly. His eyes are unfocused, and Shuichi can tell it’s taking a little effort for him to keep himself steady. “S-Sorry, I’m just a little light-headed from the blood loss… yeah, this is- this is real blood,”

He says it casually, blows it off, and what anger Shuichi had held toward him moments ago for scaring them disappears. He glances over at Maki (who looks about ready to finish the job that this mysterious head wound started) and steps toward Kokichi. “Are you alright?”

Despite his clear struggle to stay in the moment, Kokichi manages to be a dick about it-- he raises an eyebrow, grinning and setting his pointer finger on his chin. “Didn’t you say you were the Ultimate Detective?”

_Stupid question._ Shuichi scolds himself for asking. “Okay, well, what happened?”

“Who did this to you?” Maki chimes in, finally, and Kokichi looks over at her, once again taking a long moment to process.

“No, sorry, n- no one did this to me. Not for lack of wanting to, I’m sure,” he laughs in response. Maki clenches her fist. “I wanted to check something out, so I went to one of the empty rooms next door, and- and suddenly, I… I stepped through the floorboard.”

Shuichi narrows his eyes. “Through…?”

“Mhm!” Kokichi’s becoming less and less coherent, blinking more often and taking a longer time to open his eyes back up. “I fell, pretty hard, a- and… geez, it got me pretty good, huh,” His eyes fall shut again, and it looks like they’re not gonna open again for a moment. 

“You’re not done telling us what happened.” Maki says, stepping forward and gripping his shoulder. This seems to startle him-- he looks up at her like he’d forgotten she was there. “You can pass out _after_ we hear the whole story.”

“S- Sorry, sorry…” Kokichi says (his third apology in two minutes, Shuichi notes), and Maki releases his shoulder. He leans against the wall. “Anyways, I guess there was no crosspiece supporting this board, so I just kinda-- I just stepped through it,”

_No crosspiece?_ That makes no sense. This place was built to meet every student’s needs. It’s rundown and overgrown, sure, but it still has all its parts. The only reason a crosspiece should be missing is if someone were to remove it--

Before Shuichi can continue thinking about it any longer, the class trial bell rings. He glances up at the nearest monitor, watching Monokuma’s unmoving expression and not hearing a word the damn bear is saying. Four murders and three class trials in. It has only gotten harder on each of them. 

His trance-like stare is interrupted when Kokichi slumps against the wall entirely, eyes fluttering shut, breathing heavily and muttering to himself. “H-Hey!” Shuichi, alarmed, reaches over and hooks his hands under Kokichi’s arms, barely catching him before he falls to the floor. 

Kokichi’s eyes open again, and he looks up at Shuichi, gaze darting. “Sorry about that,” He says (bringing the total up to four in four minutes), using the wall to push himself upright. “Aww, I didn't get to check what I needed to… That's sad,”

“Time’s up.” Maki says simply. “We should get a move on before we get in trouble,”

Shuichi glances over at Maki, who is clearly relieved by any excuse to get out of proximity to Kokichi, and then back at Kokichi, who hardly notices he’s being looked at. “Uh… We’ll catch up with you, okay?”

Maki narrows her eyes. “I’m not sure how comfortable I feel leaving you here with him.”

Kokichi laughs at that. “Yeah, Shuichi, she can’t leave you here with the concussed 5’1” supreme leader! I could, I could--... um… I was gonna say something funny, but I- I forgot what. Something about killing you.” He says, still giggling a little.

Maki rolls her eyes. “Good Lord. He’s all yours.” She says, turning on her heel and happily abandoning the situation (Shuichi's certain she's just decided that if Kokichi somehow manages to kill him in this state, then it was clearly meant to happen). He watches her leave, then turns his attention back to Kokichi, who is very obviously doing worse than he was before. As Shuichi helps Kokichi gently down to sit on the floor, he wonders if he could persuade Monokuma to let the poor guy sit this one out, just this once.

Probably not. He reaches for Kokichi’s scarf. “You have more of these in your dorm, right?”

“Hm?” Kokichi hums, looking down at Shuichi’s hands slipping beneath his scarf and, for some reason, deciding not to ask what he’s doing with it. “Oh. Yeah,”

Shuichi nods, untying the scarf and carefully pulling it from Kokichi’s neck-- the fabric is soft, so pleasant to the touch that he almost feels bad ruining it, even though he knows there are plenty more. Delicately, he cradles Kokichi’s face with his free hand and wipes off the blood covering his face, watching his expression and realizing how little tension he’s carrying right now. He hisses in pain when Shuichi moves to dab at the blood on his forehead, and they both say “Sorry,” at the same time. 

“It's okay,” Kokichi says, eyes unfocused but still undeniably on Shuichi. “I- I did this to myself,”

What?

“No, you didn’t,” Shuichi says, because that’s just patently untrue, and surely, Kokichi should know that. “You couldn’t have known the crosspiece wasn’t there--”

“Mm, not what I meant,” Kokichi cuts him off, and now it’s his turn to fail to understand what’s being said-- he meets Kokichi’s eyes, trying to find some sort of meaning, but those stormcloud violet irises betray nothing to him. They flutter shut for a moment, and Kokichi laughs-- the sound, more than anything, is effortful and exhausted. Curious as he is (and as deeply as he wants to understand Kokichi), they’ve got a class trial to get to and Kokichi doesn’t look in any shape to explain himself anyways. 

He goes to move his hand away from its spot on Kokichi’s cheek, but Kokichi catches his wrist, holding him there. Shuichi startles a little, his concern renewed, but Kokichi doesn’t look to be in pain.

No, he’s… he’s _smiling._ It’s the most genuine expression Shuichi thinks he’s ever seen on his face. 

Shuichi swallows hard. “Kokichi,” he says, suddenly failing to make eye contact. “We have to get to the trial.”

Kokichi’s smile falters. “You’re no fun,” he says, and he clearly _tries_ to make it sound pouty, but his voice breaks and it just sounds sad. He lets go of Shuichi’s wrist. “Okay, fiiiine, let’s go,”

He clumsily wraps his arm over Shuichi’s shoulder, a silent request for help, and Shuichi sets his hand at the small of his back, half-lifting him to his feet. Kokichi leans against his shoulder for support, and Shuichi makes a mental note to keep a watchful eye on him through the trial. 

(It's unnecessary. Shuichi always has an eye on him.)

\---

It’s the middle of the trial when Gonta suggests the possibility of each room having been traps, that Shuichi stops the discussion.

“Gonta’s right,” he says, looking over at the taller gentleman with an affirming nod. “All three of the empty rooms were the same. They were all trapped.”

“Really?” He responds, as if he hadn’t expected it to be correct, despite having been the one to suggest it. 

“Yeah, Kokichi can--” He starts, gesturing towards Kokichi’s podium, only to see that he’s somehow managed to pass out standing up. “Kokichi?”

Himiko knocks his arm with her elbow, and he startles awake. “Ah! Huh?” he yelps, before realizing with a start where he is. “Oh. Wait, sorry, what were we talking about?”

Shuichi, as is habitual for him now, worries. “Are you alright?”

“Peachy!” Kokichi responds too quickly, without sparing a glance in Shuichi’s direction. “N- Nothing the Ultimate Supreme Leader can’t handle. What were we talking about?”

Maki beats him to the punch, answering Kokichi’s question swiftly, her voice betraying no concern, and he silently curses Monokuma for refusing to let Kokichi rest (“Don’t be ridiculous! _No one_ is allowed to skip out on a trial unless they’re dead or dying!” the bear had said, and Shuichi had raised an eyebrow, gesturing toward the supreme leader, who was slumped over his shoulder and barely conscious at the time). A concussion won’t kill him, but it really sucks to see him suffering. In true Kokichi fashion, though, he trudges through it and keeps the trial pushing forward-- after he’s back in the moment, he explains what happened with the floorboard, and the lack of the crosspiece, and how it _must have_ been an intentional play by the culprit, all while barely stuttering or tripping over his words. He’s not struggling as much as he was when Shuichi and Maki found him in the hallway, but it’s still clear that he’s not his usual self.

And he apologized again. That’s possibly the strangest thing in all of this-- he’s not one to apologize, not unless it serves him or his means, but every time he’s said “sorry” since he fell, it’s like he’s not even thinking about it, even though Shuichi knows for a fact that _nothing_ Kokichi does is unintentional or accidental. It’s probably just because Kokichi is concussed, and without the brainpower needed to continue playing the character he’s invented for this game, he’s letting part of his true self slip through without meaning to, and that true self is a habitual apologizer. Shuichi wonders what that says about him.

A few suggestions come to mind. 1; It’s a self-esteem issue. If one believes they’re a nuisance, they will respond to everything as though they’re a burden, and even the simplest of their needs are just an inconvenience to those around them. Kokichi’s never seemed to be anything but confident, but it’s a possibility-- an upsetting one-- nonetheless. 2; He’s doing it on purpose to get people to trust him. It’s a manipulation tactic, to get everyone to ask exactly the questions Shuichi is asking himself right now. This seems the most like something Kokichi would do, but Shuichi’s pretty sure that if manipulation was his intention, he would’ve been doing it from the start. 3; It’s a defense mechanism. Some deeply important human factor in Kokichi’s youth, his parents or siblings or peers from school, was actively harmful to him, and that’s carried over to his life now.

That suggestion makes Shuichi’s breath stop in his chest. All three of them explain Kokichi’s sudden apologizing, but the last one could very well give Shuichi a lead on his typical behavior, as well. The immediate attachment to Kirumi, a kind and doting woman who was happy to take care of everyone even without being asked-- he could’ve latched onto her as a motherly figure, or at least a positive role model of which he had none in the past. The cockiness, a falseity, a shield to protect himself a constant, unforgiving barrage of deprecation and hatred from the people around him, the people that are supposed to care for him. The pathological lying, a safety net acquired from facing harsher punishment than deserved every time he was forced to tell the truth about even the simplest of failures (I forgot to fold the laundry, I’m failing Algebra, I broke a plate) without being given the chance to explain himself beyond… (I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I swear.)

It makes his stomach ache to think about Kokichi in pain. The boy is grating, and rude, and insensitive, but no one can deny he’s been a massive help in every trial as of yet, and though Gonta and Shuichi are the only ones who seem to care for him, and he’s gone to great lengths to hide it, Shuichi can tell he cares about everyone else. Kokichi has made himself difficult to understand, and that in itself says more about him than he would probably care to admit. And, unfortunately for Shuichi, the boy, with his hazy truths and playful threats, with the low-saturated violets of his irises, has intrigued Shuichi. He remembers how his hand felt trapped gently between Kokichi’s bloodstained cheek and soft, cold hand, how Kokichi had met his eyes as though it was the most natural thing in the world, and something inside of him, some stupid part of him, wants to touch Kokichi’s face again, just to see if he would hold him there again.

He jumps out of his skin when someone’s elbow knocks against his arm, and looks over to see Kaito staring down at him. “Are you listening?”

“What?” Shuichi responds, looking around and suddenly remembering where he is. “Oh! Oh, God, sorry, what?” Everyone’s staring at him, and he realizes abruptly that he’s probably been staring at Kokichi the whole time. Kokichi, at least, has not seemed to take notice of this fact, but, hoo boy, some of the others most certainly have. 

“Hey, Super High School Level Boykisser, you gonna participate in the trial or are you just gonna keep starin’ at Twinklord McGee over here?” Miu says, voice crass, and Shuichi blushes bright red.

“I- I wasn’t--” Shuichi starts, but Kaito cuts him off.

“Shuichi’s not staring at anyone!” he retorts, defensively like the attack was toward _him_ and not Shuichi. “Get your mind outta the gutter,”

“Did Shuichi get hit too?” Gonta comments, oblivious. “He looks just as out of it as Kokichi. Gonta’s worried…”

Shuichi pinches the bridge of his nose. “I- I’m fine. Thank you, Gonta. Where were we?” Kaito narrows his eyes suspiciously, but mercifully lets it go, explaining where they were. Shuichi nods along, and once he’s up to date and the embarrassment subsides a bit, he slips back into his typical role pretty easily, and the trial continues as planned.

He avoids looking at Kokichi.

\---

The execution destroys everyone, Gonta and Himiko most of all. When it’s over, and Kiyo is gone, Tenko and Angie’s places at the trial room hold only the lifeless, crossed out portraits, and Himiko falls to her knees, inconsolable. Gonta is the next to shatter, kneeling to place a hand on Himiko’s back in an attempt at comforting her and coming apart at the seams as soon as he hits the floor. There’s not a dry eye in the house at the end of it all.

They have to return to their dorms sooner or later. Himiko exhausts herself from sobbing, falling asleep in Gonta’s hold, and he brings her back to her room, casting a final glance back towards Kiyo’s portrait. It’s strange-- Kiyo and Gonta were close, likely closer than any of them noticed, and he’s gone now, because he killed Angie and Tenko, who were Himiko’s best friends, if not more than that. By all means, Gonta and Himiko should hate each other, but whether or not there’s any contention between them in that regard, they’re there for each other anyways. 

Kokichi trips over his own feet trying to get back to the dorms. Shuichi is luckily just a couple paces behind him, and is able to catch his arm before he falls. He pulls Kokichi back toward him, and Kokichi half-falls into his chest. 

“Are you okay?” Shuichi asks, cursing himself. It’s not like they really had any time to treat the concussion earlier, but he still wishes he had done _something._ At least he can treat it now. “Kokichi, are you okay?”

Kokichi laughs quietly. “P- Peachy,” he says. It takes effort. “I’m really tired.”

“Okay, well, let’s get you back to the dorm, okay?” Shuichi suggests, voice soft. Kokichi nods, making a weak affirmative sound that crushes Shuichi’s chest with guilt-- he’s gotten so much worse, eyes glazed over and darting about, grip weak on Shuichi’s arm.

“Sorry,” he says. “‘M sorry, Shuu,”

Shuichi swallows, choosing not to respond and snugly wrapping his arm around Kokichi’s small waist. He takes Kokichi’s closest wrist and pulls it over his own shoulders, half-carrying, half-assisting him back to the dorms. When they get inside the building, he immediately notices the problem-- Kokichi’s dorm is on the far side, _and_ up the stairs, and not only does he wanna make him walk that far, but he’s not all that confident he’d be able to catch the boy should either of them fall. Shuichi’s dorm, however, is right next to them, and logically speaking, this might actually be better for both of them. This way, he’ll be able to keep an eye on Kokichi without going into his dorm and potentially invading his privacy when Kokichi’s not able to stop him.

“Hey,” Shuichi starts. “Do you just wanna go to my dorm?”

Kokichi laughs again. “Not even gonna take me t’dinner first?” he teases. Shuichi thinks he’s trying to tap his nose, but he misses and lands on the corner of his mouth. Shuichi rolls his eyes, directing Kokichi to his dorm and fumbling the key out of his pocket. Once they’re inside, Shuichi helps Kokichi lie across the bed, and once he’s off his feet, Shuichi’s able to get a good look at him for the first time since before the trial. He’s distressed, the color drained from his face, forehead covered in a thin sheen of sweat, barely conscious.

Shuichi steps back, gnawing on his lip. He hates this, but he doesn’t have any medicine in his dorm, and he really, really doesn’t wanna leave Kokichi here by himself. So. Last resort. “Monokuma?”

“Yeeeeeeeeeeeees?” The bear pops up right behind him. He jumps, turning around to face him. Ugh. At least Shuichi’s standing between them. He doesn’t want Monokuma anywhere near Kokichi, especially not like this. “I got places to be right now, whaddaya want?!”

“I need a bottle of acetaminophen. That’s all.” Shuichi says. He glances over his shoulder to see Kokichi, eyes closed, chest slowly rising and falling. “And make it quick, okay?”

“Jeez, would it kill ya to say _please?”_ Shuichi’s eye twitches, and he clenches his fist. “Calm down, calm down. Here,”

He pulls a small medicine bottle seemingly out of nowhere and tosses it in Shuichi’s direction. Shuichi catches it easily. “Thanks.” He says, turning away from the bear and focusing back on Kokichi.

“Don’t bother me again!” Monokuma says, and there’s the distinct sound of him popping out of the room. Good. He was expecting to have to explain himself, and why Kokichi was in his dorm, but it looks like he’s managed to avoid it for now.

He sets the bottle on his nightstand, setting his hands on Kokichi’s shoulders and pulling him to sit upright. Kokichi stirs, batting at Shuichi’s hands and softly protesting. “Lemme sleep,” he says, eyes still shut, and Shuichi wishes he could comply.

“How are you feeling, Kokichi?” He says, mostly just to start a conversation-- he’ll need to keep Kokichi talking. He adjusts the pillows, and once he’s sure the boy’s not just gonna tip over, he lets go, walking over to the cabinets and pulling out a plastic cup.

“Peachy,” Kokichi responds. Shuichi’s half listening. He kneels to open the mini-fridge, pulls out a bottle of water, scoops some ice into the cup, and sets them both on top as he shuts it again. “What’re you doing?”

“I’m getting you some ice. It’ll make you feel better,” He explains, leaning over the fridge to grab a washcloth. “I know you’re tired, just keep talking to me for now, okay, Kokichi?”

“Mmh,” Kokichi groans. “Why were you staring at me during the trial?”

Oh. Good. This is exactly what Shuichi wanted to talk about while in a bedroom alone with Kokichi. Great. “I was, uh, I was worried about you,” he says, carefully pouring the ice into the cloth and wrapping it, bringing the cloth and the water bottle over to Kokichi. Kokichi’s eyes are open now, lazily tracking over Shuichi’s face with a curious glint. He tries to pay it no mind, pressing the icecloth against Kokichi’s forehead. “That feel a little better?” Kokichi nods slowly. “Good, can you hold that there for me?”

Kokichi brings his hand up to hold it, and Shuichi turns to uncap the water bottle. “Why?”

“So I can open this stuff for you,” Shuichi responds. “It’s acetaminophen-- uh, over-the-counter tylenol, it’ll help with the headache--”

“No, why were you--” Kokichi interrupts, though his voice is so quiet that Shuichi almost doesn’t realize he’s speaking. “...Why were you worried?”

Shuichi blinks. Shouldn’t that much be obvious? “You’re my friend, Kokichi,” he responds, opening the medicine bottle. He takes Kokichi’s free hand and pours two pills into his open palm, capping the medicine and setting it aside, picking up the water bottle. “Take those for me, okay, and I’ll give you this,”

Kokichi squints at Shuichi, like he’s searching for something on his face, his expression, his inviting eyes. He takes the pills, grabbing the water bottle and swallowing them down. He doesn’t let go of the bottle, and ends up downing about half of it before Shuichi sets a hand on his shoulder.

“H- Hey, you’re gonna make yourself sick, slow down,” Shuichi says, taking the water bottle away from Kokichi and setting it on the bedside table. A little bit of color has returned to Kokichi’s face, at the very least, but he’s still slow on the uptake, still wincing as though the dim light of the lamp across the room is too bright for him. “When’s the last time you ate, ‘Kichi?”

In all his exhaustion, Kokichi still manages to tick an eyebrow at that. “‘Kichi?”

Well. Fuck. “Sorry, it just slipped out--”

“S’fine,” Kokichi responds, a weak smile playing on the corner of his mouth. “I like it.”

Shuichi can’t help blushing. He clears his throat. “When did you eat last?”

“Uh, dinner last night,”

Shuichi’s eyes widen. “Last night, as in, Monday?” Kokichi nods tiredly. It’s 2 AM on Wednesday now. “You haven’t eaten anything for a whole day?”

Kokichi’s smile falters, and his gaze shifts to the side. “I- I just…” He starts, voice rattling. “Kirumi. When she’d bring me food, she’d always come in and sit with me for a while, and… I dunno. I miss her.” He shakes his head. “It- It’s stupid, I know it is. I’m sorry.”

“No,” Shuichi responds, setting his hand over Kokichi’s-- Kokichi’s eyes track the movement like a hawk. “It’s not stupid. You lost someone important to you, and now you’re struggling because of it. It's only natural,” he continues. “I… I grew up around trauma. I know what it’s like to lose someone you care about.”

Kokichi looks up at Shuichi, and it’s like he’s seeing Kokichi’s face for the first time-- his eyes are uncertain, a term Shuichi would have never before used to describe Kokichi. His cold fingers grip at Shuichi’s hand. “And what happens if I- if… if someone… if someone were to lose everyone-- or, every _thing_ they loved... to this game?”

Kokichi’s voice is trembling. It breaks Shuichi’s heart. “I… We’ll just have to--”

“A-and,” Kokichi interrupts. “And what if when it happens, there’s nothing that person can do to stop it?” His breathing is becoming heavier, less under control, his grip on Shuichi’s hand like a vice. “And what if that person has to just stand there and watch as everything I- they worked for is destroyed?”

Shuichi watches as Kokichi begins to tremble, the all-too familiar beginnings of an anxiety attack setting in motion. “H-Hey, Kokichi, breathe--”

“And what if, what if all those people I care about, and the one I love, what if they resent me for it?” Kokichi’s shaking now, difficult to understand through the heaving breaths he’s taking. He lets go of Shuichi’s hand to tangle his fingers in his own hair, and Shuichi sets a hand on his shoulder. 

“Hey, it's gonna be okay--”

“And- And what if it’s all my fault? What happens if it’s all because of _me?”_

“‘Kichi!” Shuichi shouts, putting his hands on Kokichi’s shoulders, and he startles, dropping the icecloth. The cubes spill and scatter loudly across the floor, and then, the room is deathly quiet. Kokichi's eyes are wide open, staring at Shuichi as though he’s expecting to be struck. Shuichi lets out a slow breath, loosening his vice grips on Kokichi’s shoulders and moving his left hand to rest on his cheek, damp with tears and hot with emotion. 

Ever so hesitantly, Kokichi brings his right hand down and covers Shuichi’s, holding him there delicately. For a moment, neither of them breathe.

“It’s okay,” Shuichi murmurs. “No one’s gonna hurt us now,”

Kokichi lets out a heavy, shaking sigh, shutting his eyes and bowing his head. His hair falls in his face, blocking his eyes from Shuichi’s vision. “‘M sorry, Shuu,” he says, partially muffling his voice behind Shuichi’s hand. Shuichi allows the silence for just a moment. 

“You don't have to be sorry,” he says, consciously keeping his voice gentle so that the words are a suggestion and not a reprimand. “Hey. You're scared, I am too-- we all are. But we’re going to get through this, and we’re going to do it together,”

“But what if we can’t?” Kokichi doesn’t look up, and his voice, while still meek, is a little more steady. “Wh- What if it all goes wrong?”

_That won’t happen,_ is what Shuichi wants to say. But if he sits here and dismisses Kokichi’s real, deep-rooted (and valid) fears as simple impossibilities the first time Kokichi opens up to him about it, it will be the only time. With his free hand, he brushes Kokichi’s hair out of his face, gently tucking it behind his ear. “Then we’ll go down together, too,”

Kokichi finally meets Shuichi’s eyes. “You promise?”

Shuichi has never been more sure of himself. “I promise,”

Kokichi watches him for a moment, and breathes out a long, shaking sigh, closing his eyes again. He turns his face toward Shuichi’s palm hesitantly, and Shuichi barely sustains a gasp when Kokichi, so gently he almost doesn’t register it happening, presses a kiss to his palm. 

He doesn’t know what to make of it, but it makes his heart beat faster, makes his thoughts race. Ill as he is, Kokichi’s poor state of mind and lack of focus have stripped him of his ability to fool everyone around him. He’s afraid, and he's hurting, and he's vulnerable, and whether it was an intentional choice on his part or not, he has trusted Shuichi to see that part of him. Would he have done this if he hadn’t concussed himself? And if someone else had found him, would he tell them the same things, ask them the same burning questions?

Shuichi is selfish for hoping to be special to Kokichi, but he hopes it anyway.

“Thank you, for opening up to me,” he says, keeping his voice low. “You can trust me with anything, okay?”

Kokichi sniffles, finally letting go of Shuichi's hand and rubbing at his eyes. “I’m tired,” he says, leaning back against the headboard. Shuichi doesn’t blame him-- he’s probably just been wanting to lie down for hours now. 

“Okay,” Shuichi says, glancing at the clock. It’s nearly three in the morning, and the exhaustion is starting to hit him, too. “You can sleep, but I’m gonna wake you up to check on you a couple times,”

“Nooooo,” Kokichi responds, shaking his head. “Don’t you have to sleep too?”

Shuichi chuckles. “Don’t worry about it, okay?” He says, standing up to let Kokichi rest. “I’ll just be over on the couch, and--”

“Shuichi, wait,” Kokichi’s hand is grasping Shuichi’s wrist in an instant, and he turns back, alarmed. Their eyes meet-- Kokichi seems just as shocked as he is. A soft blush spreads across the boy’s face, and he breaks eye contact to look anywhere else, sheepishly letting go of Shuichi’s wrist. “U- Um…. y’know, you don’t have to sleep on the couch in your own dorm. And this bed could fit four of us, so, uh…”

Oh.

Shuichi shouldn’t torture the boy, but he can’t help it. “You want me to stay with you?” He asks. “Like, here, with you?”

Kokichi pouts, crossing his arms. “Well, if you’re going to be waking me up every thirty seconds anyways--”

“Hey, relax,” Shuichi says, smiling warmly at him. “Of course I’ll stay.”

Kokichi’s still pouting, but at least his expression softens a little bit. Shuichi gets up, walking over to the other side of the bed, and abruptly realizes how hard his heart is beating. He takes a deep breath as he sheds his black jacket and shoes, trying to calm his nerves and climbing into bed beside Kokichi. The boy shifts until his head is on the pillow, and then they’re both staring up at the ceiling, silence hanging between them like humidity.

“Wow,” Kokichi says after a while. “Can’t believe you care about me. That is _so_ embarrassing for you,”

Shuichi rolls his eyes. “Go to sleep,”

“Hmph. You won’t even humor me?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be concussed?”

“That was a lie,”

“You can’t _lie_ about being concussed,”

“I probably could.”

Shuichi frowns. He probably could. “Well, are you?”

Kokichi sighs. “Fine, you got me, I’m actually telling the truth this time,” he admits, voice a little pained as he turns on his side, facing Shuichi. “You’re not allowed t’use any of this against me when I’m better, though.”

“I don’t do that kind of stuff,” Shuichi says, looking over at him.

“I would,” Kokichi responds, closing his eyes. “If I were you, I’d tell everyone about what I said. You could destroy me, y’know,”

“I don’t want to destroy you.”

“What do you want, then?”

Shuichi swallows. He shouldn’t tell Kokichi how much he wants to hold him right now, wants to run his fingers through that soft purple hair, wants to kiss his forehead, wants to feel all of the nervous tension leave his body until he falls asleep in his arms. He shouldn’t tell Kokichi that, even with how nerve-wracked he was worrying himself into a fervor over the boy, even with Kokichi falling into pieces before him, he quietly enjoyed the time they got to spend together, and he’d like to wrap them both up in the blankets, where it’s safe and warm, until he felt better, until neither of them needed to be afraid of everything going wrong, of not being able to fix it, of going down at all. He shouldn’t tell him, because with his poor condition afflicting his state of mind, he would let it happen, and come to regret it when he felt better.

(Kokichi opens his eyes, and they meet Shuichi’s, half-lidded and expectant.)

But even more than that, Shuichi knows he will never regain Kokichi’s trust if he lies right now. 

Kokichi’s got one hand settled under his head, and the other lies on the pillow in front of him. Shuichi, hope and anxiety fueling him, reaches forward and takes Kokichi’s hand, bringing it toward him to press a kiss to those rough knuckles, and another to the back of his hand. When he looks to Kokichi’s face, the boy is smiling, a lazy, sleepy contentment on his expression.

Shuichi releases his hand as though he’s only just realized he was holding it. “Sorry,” he apologizes immediately. “I-- I just--”

“If you wanna kiss me,” Kokichi interrupts, voice slow, and Shuichi can tell he’s on the verge of falling asleep. “You should do it,”

Shuichi swallows. He does. He would. “Let’s… talk about this tomorrow,” he says. “Get some sleep, okay?”

“‘M not even tired...” Kokichi lies, but his eyes fall shut anyways. “I don’t need…”

He trails off. Shuichi holds his breath for a good thirty seconds, unsure if he’s really asleep or just pretending to be-- either way, he looks incredibly peaceful like this, eyes closed, hair messily strewn about across the pillow, none of that tension he always carries in his shoulders. Shuichi reaches over to carefully brush the hair out of his face, and Kokichi sighs in his sleep. Shuichi will have to wake him up soon enough to check up on him, but right now, he allows himself the selfishness.

\---

Shuichi stays up as long as he can checking in on Kokichi every thirty minutes, but eventually, he can’t keep himself up any longer. He falls asleep as the sun rises.

Kokichi wakes up with a splitting ache in his head, and Shuichi’s sleeping body a foot or so away from him. He whines at the sunlight bleeding in through the window, and his head is killing him. What happened? He remembers falling through the floorboard, and he remembers Shuichi kissing his hand, and various events between that, but he doesn’t remember the order they came in or why they happened, and his head hurts so much he could cry.

He doesn’t cry. Instead, he pushes through the dull, powerful ache and sits up, fumbling for the water bottle and the tylenol on the bedside stand. With shaky hands, he pours two pills into his hand, popping them into his mouth before flicking off the cap of the water bottle and gulping it down. The clock reads 10 in the morning-- he’s been sleeping for seven hours, which, while restless, is the most sleep he’s gotten since Kirumi’s execution. But he _really_ doesn’t feel like getting up.

He turns back towards Shuichi, who is still sleeping peacefully, and sighs, moving back under the covers and doing what he’s thought about doing since they got to the dorm-- he moves closer to Shuichi, draping his arm over the detective’s waist and hiding his head under his chin. He’ll regret this later, but damn it, he’s _suffering,_ and he just wants someone to hold him. He shuts his eyes tight, and finally, the tears spring to his eyes.

Then, Shuichi shifts, and Kokichi can hear him gasp. Just as the detective starts to apologize frantically and extricate himself from Kokichi’s hold, Kokichi grasps at the back of his shirt, burying his face in the nape of his neck, certain that if he looks at Shuichi’s face he will shatter.

“Please,” He whispers, all-too aware of just how pathetic he sounds. “Please just stay.”

Shuichi is stock-still for a long few seconds, and Kokichi’s heart is on the verge of breaking.

Then, finally, those warm arms wrap around his shoulders, and Shuichi relaxes back into the bed. “I’m here,” he says, and Kokichi _sobs_ in relief, stubbornly refusing to let go of his grips in Shuichi’s shirt, even as Shuichi’s hand comes up to rest in his hair, combing gently through the tangles. Shuichi presses a kiss to the top of Kokichi’s head. “It’s okay,” he murmurs, voice low and rumbling and perfect, and Kokichi latches onto it through all of the blaring TV static in his mind. “It’s okay. I’m right here,”

They’ll have to get up soon, and when they do, Kokichi will have to be the person everyone thinks he is again. He will have to play all of this off as an elaborate lie, a play on Shuichi’s emotions. But for now, he’s in Shuichi’s embrace, and he doesn’t need to worry about anyone or anything that is outside of it.

**Author's Note:**

> title's from a pentatonix song because i am the gayest motherfucker alive
> 
> i'm @imaginaryko on twitter please come yell abt saiouma with me . here's the tweet that started it all https://twitter.com/imaginaryko/status/1314421900391653376?s=20


End file.
